


More than Words

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: I got this request yesterday, for a birthday (the end of which I've missed by almost two hours, now...) - Benson and Barba in a secret relationship, and Chief Dodds asking Benson out. It was supposed to be "angsty with a happy ending" but honestly there's not really angst.





	More than Words

“No, no, really,” she said, touching her fingers to his wrist on the bar. “I think he _actually_ thought it was a good idea.”

Barba chuckled, shaking his head. “So unprofessional,” he said.

“Oh, there’s a knock on my door. Maybe I should wait until I have my shirt _on_ —No, on second thought, I can’t imagine anyone _wouldn’t_ want to see my abs.”

Barba offered a soft snort. “Abs, huh?” he asked. He was turned partway toward her on his stool, one elbow on the shiny wood—fingers wrapped loosely around his glass—while his other hand rested on the edge of the bar. Her fingers were still on his wrist, lingering, the touch light but familiar. “A gift to the world, I’m sure.”

“But it wasn’t just once!” she exclaimed, leaning toward him. “I mean, okay, sure, I get it, you don’t know I’m stopping by, you’re changing a shirt—But no. It’s happened at least three times, now.”

“At least? You lost count?”

“I don’t know why he goes through so many shirts,” she said, ignoring his question.

Barba laughed. “It _has_ occurred to you that the man is hitting on you?”

“Please,” she said, giving him a dirty look. “I’m old enough to be his mother.”

“Only if you’d started very young,” he said with a grin.

“And I know he has a decent vocabulary. He should try using his words.”

Barba laughed again. “Maybe he doesn’t think his words are his best asset. From what I’ve seen, he might be right.”

“Well, you haven’t seen half of what I’ve seen.”

“He wears tight shirts. I’ve seen most of what you’ve seen. Unless we’re talking about more than the torso?” he added, raising an eyebrow.

“No. Well, and feet.”

“ _Feet_?”

“Anyway, who cares about being able to bounce a quarter off someone’s abs?”

“Not me.”

“No. Personality is what counts, right?”

“You could bounce a quarter off _your_ abs.”

“And being able to do your job.”

“My job?”

“His job. He’s a decent lawyer—”

“He’s more than decent. He came damn close to sending me to prison.”

“If you’d prosecuted yourself, you’d be in for life,” she said. “He’s adequate but he’s not you.”

“Adequate?” he repeated, relishing the increased pressure of her hand on his wrist. “He’s managed a pretty good record since working with you.”

“Sure. Like I said, he’s decent—”

“Although I imagine your squad does a lot of the heavy lifting.”

“His lines are more firmly drawn than yours.”

“Are you still talking about his stomach?”

“His interpretation of the law.”

“Maybe that makes him a better lawyer.”

“Bullshit. It makes him annoying.”

Barba laughed quietly, absently running a finger around the rim of his glass. “Because he won’t risk his career for every case?” he joked.

“Yes,” she said. “He cares, but he doesn’t—” She stopped, sighing. She shifted, her knee brushing against his leg. “But he’s not you,” she repeated.

“No,” he agreed. “Abs are for young men who like to take off their shirts and don’t care how their food tastes.” Before she could answer, he looked past her and said, “Incoming.”

She registered the tightening of his expression and pulled her hand back, turning to look over her shoulder. Barba shifted toward the bar and lifted his glass to his lips, sipping his scotch.

“Lieutenant, Counsellor,” Chief Dodds said as he stopped beside her, flashing a grin. “Good evening.”

“Chief,” Benson said as Barba tipped his glass in a silent salute. She glanced past Dodds, but he seemed to be alone.

“May I?” he asked, pointing at the stool beside her.

“Of course,” she said.

Barba brushed a knuckle against her arm and said, “I’ll be right back.” She looked at him, met his eyes for a moment, and nodded. He slipped off the stool and headed toward the bathroom.

Benson turned her attention back to Dodds. “Something I can help you with?” she asked as he seated himself—facing her, with an arm on the bar.

“Nah,” he said, with a dismissive flick of his hand. “I stopped in to…Well, actually,” he said, smiling and tilting his head toward her, “I was going to grab some takeout and, to be honest, I saw you through the window.” He laughed, shrugging a shoulder. “I thought, what the heck, you know? Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

She hesitated. “I’m sorry. Ask what?”

“If you’d like to get dinner somewhere.” He pointed toward her glass and added, “When you’ve finished your drink, of course. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Dinner?” she repeated, staring at him, unsure if she was misinterpreting his meaning.

“Dinner,” he agreed. “I hate to eat alone, you know.”

“I…”

He put a hand on her arm. “Actually, I’ve wanted to ask for a while,” he said, and she was caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his expression. He gave her a crooked smile. “The timing never seemed right. And I know there are potential complications, if things work out we’d have to disclose—”

“Work out?”

“But we’re both adults. Not like these young and impulsive detectives who hop into the sack and think their actions don’t have consequences. You and I are smarter than that, we understand the way the world works.” He paused, regarding her. “And I have the utmost respect for you, Olivia.”

“Right,” she said. She cleared her throat. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, moving his hand from her arm to her wrist. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but I think the attraction is mutual. We’ve chosen to ignore it because of our working relationship—”

“We work well together,” she interrupted. “In spite of some…rough patches.”

He smiled. “I think I’ve learned that my best course of action is usually to stay out of your way,” he said. “You’re good at your job, Liv. But I think we could be good _together_.”

“You’re my boss,” she answered slowly.

He grimaced and shook his head. “In title, only. Certainly not here, not now. We’re equals—I hope you think of me as a friend.” His hand slid down her wrist to cover the back of her hand.

“Chief—Bill,” she said, putting her other hand over his. “We are friends. We’ve been through a lot,” she repeated. “I, uh…I’m just—to be honest, I’m a little surprised.”

“We’ve eaten together before.”

“Yes, but—”

“So don’t think of this as me asking you on a date. We can just be two friends having dinner, again. And then if there are any sparks—”

“Sparks. I…I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

He looked disappointed, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. “No, of course,” he said with a shake of his head. “I understand, this is very short notice. I’m sure you have to get home to your son. Maybe some other time, then?”

She heard Barba returning to his stool behind her, and she regarded the chief for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to mitigate the awkwardness of the situation. She could be blunt and say she wasn’t interested; he might be her boss, but she wasn’t worried about him letting a rejection affect their work lives. He was a smart guy, and in spite of his ego and occasional tendency to bluster, he was a _good_ guy who’d suffered a lot of unthinkable loss in his life. He was her boss, but he had also become her friend, and she had no desire to hurt him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she repeated. “I’m…” She turned her head to look at Barba. He was sipping at his scotch, but cut his gaze toward her and met her eyes. His eyebrows went up, but barely: a subtle question. “Do you mind?” she asked quietly.

“Mind?” he repeated over the rim of his glass.

“If I tell him?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he tipped his glass toward her in another subtle gesture. "I never do," he murmured, barely audible, his lips curving into a smile.

She turned back to Dodds. “The truth is, Rafael and I are…seeing each other.”

Dodds blinked, looking from her to Barba and back again. “Oh,” he said. He drew his hand back, slowly. “Well, shit. Sorry, I…didn’t know.”

“Yeah, we haven’t really told anyone,” she answered.

“I thought you were, you know. Just friends.” He paused, and she knew what he was going to ask next. “Did this happen before or—”

“After,” she cut in.

“Then…congratulations, I guess,” he said. “If it’s…serious…” He was uncharacteristically flustered, and she knew he was looking for a way to salvage his wounded pride.

“It’s serious,” she answered. She looked back at Barba.

He looked up from his drink. “What? Oh. Yes. Very serious,” he agreed, and she glared at him for a moment. His lips quirked.

“Right, sorry, I didn’t mean to…interrupt your date, then,” Dodds said. He hesitated a few seconds longer before stepping down from his stool. He looked past her at Barba. “No hard feelings, huh?”

“Of course not,” Barba answered. “You’re right to think she’s too good for me.”

“That’s not—” Dodds stopped. Considered. Offered a smile. “Well, maybe that is what I thought, subconsciously. But as long as you make her happy, that’s all that matters.”

“He makes me happy,” Benson said before Barba could throw out any snarky comments. She put her hand on Dodds’s arm. “It was good to see you, Bill. Take care of yourself, alright?”

Dodds smiled and covered her hand for only a moment. “Have a good evening, Olivia.” He nodded at Barba. “Rafael,” he added.

“See you around,” Barba answered.

Benson watched Dodds make his way out of the bar before she turned to face Barba. “That was awkward.”

“Was it?”

“I didn’t see it coming.”

“No?”

“No. I thought we were friends, coworkers, but not…” She shook her head. “He must just be lonely.”

“That’s not it.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Hmm. He used his words like you wanted.”

“That’s true.”

“And he’s not too young. In fact, he might be old enough to be your—”

“Not unless he started very, _very_ young.”

He laughed. “He’s a nice-looking guy. Smart. Dresses well. Not geriatric. Seems like a good catch.”

“You want me to call him back for you?”

“But you didn’t give him a chance. Poor Bill.”

“You know what they say.”

“They?”

She waved a hand. “ _They_. People.”

“Ah. Them. They talk too much.”

She smiled. “Fine. I won’t tell you, then.”

“Tell me what?”

“What they say.”

“About what?”

“Love.”

“Love? Who’s in love?”

“You and me.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.”

“His.”

“Pardon me?”

“His and mine are the same.”

“You and Dodds?”

“That’s the quote. Catherine, about Heathcliff. ‘He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’”

“You’ve read _Wuthering Heights_?”

“Awful book.”

“Of course you have.”

“The man starved himself to delirium.”

“He was fasting. For clarity.”

“Idiotic.”

“Yeah. You would never.”

“I find enough clarity in a nice coffee, thank you very much.”

She smiled. “And snacks. To stave off the delirium.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “A man cannot live on meals alone.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s late. We should get out of here.”

“Your place or ours?”

“You promised Noah you’d finish reading that horrible book.”

“ _Wuthering Heights_? He’s a little young,” he said, sliding off his stool and reaching for her coat.

“ _The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food_.”

He looked horrified. “That’s sacrilege! I would never.”

She turned and slipped one arm, then the other, into the sleeves before facing him. “ _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_.”

“I’m about to be offended, Olivia.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing to do with food. You clearly need a snack,” he answered, swinging his own coat on and fishing out his wallet to drop money onto the bar.

“I blocked it out. It’s an awful book.”

“It’s a classic.”

“There is food, somewhere.”

“Apples. It’s _The Giving Tree_ , as you well know.”

“It should be called _The Selfish Boy_.”

“I think you mean _The Taking Boy_. It plays better.”

“He killed that tree.”

“The tree was happy,” Barba responded, smirking at her dirty look.

“That’s not a healthy relationship,” she said as they made their way toward the door.

“Relationship? It’s about a guy and a tree.” He held the door and then stepped onto the sidewalk beside her, slipping his arm through hers when she extended an elbow.

“You know it’s supposed to be about love,” she told him.

“Dendrophilia?”

“He takes everything from her until he kills her. And even after.”

“Necrophilia?” He laughed when she tipped her head and gave him a withering look. “She gives everything of herself willingly until she dies, because she loves him.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t love her. Not really.”

“If I were a tree, I’d—”

“Be taller?”

He glared at her. “—give you all my apples and branches and let you climb all over me—”

“I think we do that already?”

“—and let you cut me down.”

“I would never.”

“No. You wouldn’t. And I’ll bet you ten dollars that Noah says the same thing when we finish the book tonight.”

“Gambling? Shame on you.”

“Fine. Ten kisses.”

“Where?”

“Wherever you want. I’m going to win.”

“Wait, does the winner get the kisses, or do the kissing?” she asked.

He grinned. “I’ll let you decide after you lose.”

 

*       *       *

 

“You know what they call this?” she asked, tracing her fingers over the slight curve above his hip. He was lying on his back, and she was propped on an elbow beside him. Their clothes were strewn across the floor, and the blankets had been kicked to the foot of the bed. The air was cool against their flushed skin.

“Who?”

“They.”

“Hmm. Them again.”

“Do you know?”

“Abs?” he guessed with a small twist of his lips.

“Love handles,” she said, grinning.

He snorted. “What do they know?”

“A lot, actually,” she said, pushing herself up and swinging a leg over him. She straddled his thighs, looking down at his face. She spread her hands over his sides. “Gives me something to hold onto.”

“Afraid I’m going somewhere?”

“Not while I have you pinned down.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We both know you can outrun me.”

She studied his face for a few moments. “You don’t have doubts, do you?”

“That you can outrun me? None.”

“That I love you.”

“Oh. That,” he said with a smile.

“I’m serious.”

“Very serious?”

“Yes.”

“Liv, as long as you love me, my ego is bulletproof.”

“I do.”

“I know,” he answered.

“Every…single…inch,” she said, sliding her hands up to his chest until she could feel his hardened nipples against her palms.

“Every inch?” he repeated.

“Mmhm,” she said, leaning forward to press her lips against the dark curls between her hands. He swallowed, shifting his head on the pillow. She kissed her way slowly down his stomach, letting her lips linger against his skin. When she flicked her tongue against his navel, he sucked in a sharp breath. She lifted her head to look at him. “That was ten kisses, right?”

“I think it might’ve been more, but don’t let me stop you,” he said with a smirk.

“You weren’t keeping track?”

“I lost count. I can’t see my toes.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll start over. But this is the last time.”

“Okay.”

“Unless you need a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“Yeah. About the love thing.”

“Love thing?” he asked, his voice cracking with amusement. His eyes were sparkling as he looked at her, and his beauty stole her breath.

“About me loving you,” she managed.

“Oh,” he answered softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That.”

“You’ve got a good memory, though. I think you should be able to remember.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t have a good memory?”

“I don’t have any doubts.”

“Good.” She kissed his stomach and felt a soft shiver pass through him.

“Liv,” he said, and she looked up at him. “I love you, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know,” she answered, ducking her head to kiss the soft hair just below his belly button.

“Good,” he breathed.


End file.
